Pop songs, on a radio,
scratched at the darkness
Doors shut and opened
throughout the house
Your parents were snoring
but nothing was trustworthy
Chance had left you
to wall and ceiling angles
that converged, like feelings,
foreshortening corners.
In a dream you ventured out
to the unfamiliar woods,
prowled trees
adorned with scalps,
and withered as the dead
snapped back,
stinging across the face.
Scurry, dampness,
and torch light
halted the warrior's yell.
No telling how
frightened or captive
the family would look
in the kitchen, in the morning
As I read this, I got the feeling I was looking at an old family photo I'd never seen before -- a moment perfectly remembered, but only just now when I saw the snapshot.
ReplyDelete---johnm